


Starry-Eyed Children

by TheVoidless



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Corvo!Tommy, Daud!Techno, Dishonored AU for the Dream SMP, Emily!Tubbo, Havelock!Eret, Jessamine!Wilbur, Lord Regent!Schlatt, Outsider!Dream, Piero!Sam, Samuel!Fundy, Slackjaw!Quackity, loosely based on Dishonored's plot, loyalist!Ranboo and Niki, major character death for Wilbur, major spoilers for Dishonored
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVoidless/pseuds/TheVoidless
Summary: Tommy is the Royal Protector and best friend to the Emperor's successor, Tubbo. When he is framed for the murder of the Emperor and Tubbo's kidnapping, he faces the penalty of death. With the aid of Dream and the Loyalists, Tommy must save Tubbo and restore order to L'manburg.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Starry-Eyed Children

Tubbo leaned back in his chair, playing with a pen in his hand. The rocker creaked slightly as the younger boy leaned back. The stained-glass window at his back guided a few lost strands of sunlight to sweep through his hair and illuminated chocolate brown fringes.

“You reckon we’ll have much work today?” Tubbo asked. He stole a glance over to his best friend.

Tommy hummed in half-hearted thought. “We?” He scoffed playfully, a mischievous grin forming on his sharp face. “Don’t think you can rope me into doing weird shit for you, Tubbo, Your oh-so-mighty Highness.”

“I don’t suppose Wilbur would be very eager to take it off my hands, either,” Tubbo continued. He added a heavy sigh to prove his reluctance for royal work, and leaned impossibly further back in his wooden chair. If Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d think his friend would crash and fall- and yet, still, his overprotective heart picked up in pace at the thought he might hurt himself.

“Could you stop?” Tommy frowned, ignored Tubbo’s words, and gestured at the display. “I swear to the gods you’ll have some awful accident if you keep on like that.”

He was answered with a roll of emerald eyes, “Please, Tommy. You’re supposed to protect me from assassins, not-”

There was a loud shout from the balcony. They startled, and Tommy was up first, weapon at the ready, and slowly moved towards ajar doors. The study the two friends resided in had large, glass doors that led to a white pavilion and the rest of the palace yard. 

As he neared the exit, he squinted, and found he could see a figure at the pavilion’s edge. “Wilbur?!” He dared cry out across the empty space. Tommy’s mind felt scrambled as he searched for a memory- was the Emperor outside the last time he saw him? It was like Wilbur to take his business outside, but was now one of those times?

He wanted to run towards them- surely someone had just shouted for help. Even if it wasn’t a high-priority target like Wilbur, perhaps someone really needed him.

Yet, he threw a look behind him at Tubbo, who was standing rigidly, matching his gaze with wide eyes. Tommy was assigned to protect Tubbo with his life, and even then, he dearly wanted to keep his best friend safe.

“Tubbo,” he started, only to be cut off by the older boy.

“Go!” The other yelled hurriedly, pointing outside. “Something’s wrong. I don’t see any guards.”

“But you-”

“Wilbur needs you more,” Tubbo insisted, now physically pushing Tommy outside. “I can take care of myself.”

Tommy bit his lip hesitantly, but the order rang through his head and he dashed outside.

He sprinted like he never had before. His legs met the concrete with resounding thuds that shook up his lithe body. He was afraid he might run out of breath by the time he got there, but it seemed he made it under the wire.

Wilbur stood at the pavilion’s railing, concern etched in his features as he looked towards the nearby rooftops.

“Wilbur,” Tommy said wearily, and a bit breathless. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

The Emperor frowned in concentration. “I thought I saw someone running on top of those buildings…” He trailed off incredulously, like he couldn’t believe himself. “But the next second, they were gone.”

Tommy’s heart was having a rough time slowing down from his initial panic- his body still pumped adrenaline through his veins, unable to properly understand the situation, but ready to fight. Was everything okay, or?

“I-” he began.

But he could hardly utter anything after the initial word, because large men with intimidating gas masks were approaching them, long swords at the ready.

“Shit,” he breathed, taking in the situation and readying his own shorter sword. Tubbo was right- there really weren’t any guards around- where the hell were they!?

“Who sent you?” Wilbur said in his commanding tone. A tone that Tommy was very much used to, after years of scolding. 

But the intruders advanced silently, circling around Tommy and Wilbur. He couldn’t help but glance towards the open doors to where Tubbo was surely hiding behind, but couldn’t tell if he was there or not.

The assassins seemed to have noticed his distraction, because soon they were upon them. One of them pounced onto Tommy’s sword- the other onto Wilbur. 

While Tommy was the official Royal Protector, he was still a boy. He knew Wilbur could take care of himself, and focused solely on the man in front of him.

He begrudgingly acknowledged the additional muscle on his opponent, but at least Tommy had the height advantage. Perhaps he could use this.

The man first went for a side blow- one that Tommy blocked, but the force of it sent tremors through his sword arm. He pushed off the offending sword with the side of his own and tried for a quick thrust towards the chest. It was parried, and Tommy cursed loudly as the man continued forward with his momentum for a glancing blow. It sliced his upper arm- not too deep, Tommy noted with relief- and he took the opening for an uncalled-for kick in the groin.

Well, who said dirty fighting was off the table when your life, and not to mention, the Emperor’s, was on the line? It really did help his legs were much longer and consequently had more range.

It was effective, but not enough. The man was prepared, and only seemed to wince a bit before turning around for another hit. 

A hit which never came.

Wilbur appeared at the side of the man, holding a sword through his middle. In seconds, he pulled it out and the man fell, blood gushing in rhythmic bursts out of the wound. He crumbled, letting out a muffled scream through his mask.

The Emperor wiped some of the sprayed blood off his face. He looked at Tommy for a moment in concern. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Tommy could only breathe. “Yea, I’m aight.”

Wilbur nodded, allowing himself to smile a bit, but then there were two more. Both Tommy and Wilbur turned to face them head-on, but there was something different about these two- a difference that made Tommy’s skin crawl.

One with a similar get-up approached Tommy, and held his hand up. A strange glow emitted from his raised hand, and Tommy could literally _feel_ it. He couldn’t breathe or move. He was choking, squirming in place, as the other man stood feet away from him.

The other man that approached them was clearly the authority over the assassins- his clothing was similar, but the air around him protruded raw power. His skin had an unnatural pink hue, and his long, tied-back hair flowed with his effortless gait.

The man was confidence and strength incarnate.

He strode calmly towards Wilbur and brandished what Tommy could begrudgingly admit was a very beautiful sword, ready for the kill.

“NO!” Tommy heard someone scream. He could hardly tell who it was at this point. The choking was actually quite effective- he was blacking out. It sounded like Tubbo, but that couldn’t be right. He was supposed to have hid himself, he was supposed to have been _safe_. Not here, not in the middle of the fight.

Many things happened at once. Too many, really, for Tommy to have properly comprehended. 

Tommy was released from the magical chokehold and collapsed. He saw in the corner of his eye Tubbo shoving himself against the man who appeared to have been choking him. The pinkish man was stabbing Wilbur against the railing.

In a flash, the magic man grabbed Tubbo and they vanished into thin air. Wilbur’s murderer took a step away from Wilbur’s collapsing body. The man gave Tommy a curious once-over before turning and disappearing in the same fashion.

And Wilbur… Wilbur was down. He was dying. Wilbur was dying.

Those words repeated themselves in Tommy’s head as he crawled on all fours to get to him. He was much too light headed to stand and walk.

“Wilbur?”

“Tommy,” Wilbur managed to say brokenly as he sensed Tommy approaching, gasping in pain. “Tubbo? Is he- I saw them, Tommy. You have to protect him.”

Tommy nodded vigorously, even as it hurt tremendously. “Yes, yes, of course, Wilbur.” 

“Phil,” he managed to say before he began to cough violently. “He…”

Tommy waited with a stopped heart for a moment, certain there were going to be more words, more phrases that he might use as vital information, or to pass on as the Emperor’s last farewell. But there wasn’t. The fatal heart wound was too much. Wilbur laid dead in his arms.

Tommy is sure he cried. He’s sure there were disgusting tears and snot that trailed down his grief-stricken face, sure that he was screaming loud enough for the rats in the sewers to hear him.

What happened next was a blur. A blur of faces and voices, mixed colors fazing over each other and sounds that overlapped in a twisted song. But what struck him, from the haze, was the punch that rattled his teeth in their sockets.

“Tell us, boy!” An older man shouted. “What have you done!?”

Tommy is sure Tubbo would have known his official, royal name. He’s sure he would have been able to recite his duties and his rank. Tubbo. Where was he? Where did they take him?

He remained silent. What could he say? Was he supposed to defend himself against something? His face contorted in pain- an expression the older man in front of him immediately reacted to with more yelling.

“He’s killed the Emperor,” he heard distantly with frayed nerves. “And kidnapped his successor. We will behead him.”

If his vision wasn’t so dark already, perhaps he would have better noticed the way it all went to black when a blunt force hit his head.

When Tommy came-to, there was no way to tell how much time had passed. He blearily opened heavy eyelids, taking in the low torch-light and the musky smell of dirt and rotten things. A low murmur echoed down into where he realized he was. A prison cell. The words that he heard last rushed back to him. He was to be killed. Beheaded, the man said.

The question of when was hardly on Tommy’s mind, though. His thoughts ran back. Thoughts about Wilbur, about Tubbo, about the older Lord Protector, Phil. He had been on a trip overseas to get help for the rat plague. He was due in two more days. Or, at least, two days from when Tommy was last conscious.

Did Wilbur say his father’s name like a plea? That Phil might come and fix this mess? Or, perhaps, he was speaking to Tommy, telling him something about Phil that he should know?

But he would never know now.

The grief struck him hard again, and he managed to quietly sob to himself in his little cage, curled up against the corner of the cold, rock wall. It would have been more bearable if the mold in the cell weren’t so damp, or that there weren’t so many rats scurrying over his feet as he attempted to mourn his dead older brother.

“Fuck off,” he swore at them, kicking them away when he mustered enough energy to do so. But his energy was waning fast. His head was still throbbing in pain, and the ache of crying so hard for so long was getting to him.

It wasn’t long until he fell into what should have been a deep slumber.

Instead, he fell into what he could only describe as the Void itself.

A great wailing filled his sore ears. He had never heard whales up close before, but he’s sure that was the source of it. Screaming whales.

He took in the floating platforms of crumbling rock, of the mighty, dark abyss that expanded past the non-existent horizon. There was no sun or moon here.

As he stepped forward down a clear-trodden path, he smelt the salt of the ocean on a breeze that seemed to die the moment it touched him.

“Hello?” he dared call out into the Void. He never considered himself a heathen, but his views were taking a startling turn. Perhaps the Outsider was real.

“Your life’s been majorly fucked over,” Tommy heard a humored voice close behind him. He practically jumped out of his own skin. He turned so quickly to apprehend the new presence that he nearly tripped over his feet.

The being that floated before him was unlike any other. He was a thin man, and in the most physical sense, he appeared weak. A thick cream-colored blindfold covered his eyes, and his frame seemed small under a leather suit and large, dark green cowl. But there only existed power that flowed off him in waves, and Tommy could feel an irresistible pull towards him- a pull that promised strength in ways he’d never imagined.

Strength that oddly reminded him of the assassins.

“The fuck,” he could only manage to say. Not very classy, he knew Tubbo would be scolding him. But really, what were you supposed to say in front of a god? ‘That wasn’t very cash money of you?’ Probably not.

The god in front of him chuckled before speaking again. “Your older brother and Emperor has been murdered before your very eyes. Your dearest friend and successor to the throne has been kidnapped.” The being seemed to glide closer to Tommy, like he was leaning in. “You’re about to fuck shit up. So I’ve pulled you into here, the Void itself.”

Before Tommy could say something idiotic, the god continued. “People think they can say anything and dub me the Outsider, but that’s pretty lame. You can call me Dream.” He waved at Tommy’s left hand. “This is my mark.”

An intense burning sensation shot through Tommy’s skin. It felt like a million fires were started in each one of his cells on the top of his hand. But through the pain, he saw the beginnings of a symbol being tattooed there. Curving lines and circles formed what looked like a crude, smiling face.

“People call it magic,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s really not.”

Tommy waited a beat to let him finish. But when Dream didn’t go on, he said, “You know, you don’t really seem like a god to me.”

Dream chuckled, a low, reverberating noise that seemed to make nearby pillars of rock shake. “What do I seem like?”

Tommy gave it no thought. “I dunno, like, a dickhead?”

To Tommy’s surprise, Dream laughed. If the previous chuckle shook the earth, his laughter boomed throughout the Void, and the very air wobbled. Abruptly, he stopped, and the Void went so still that Tommy forgot to breathe.

“Tommy,” he said seriously. “You’re kinda crossing lines, here.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Dream sighed, “Anyways, I’m not done. How about you take this?”

He materialized a beating human heart in the air. Tommy was initially repulsed, but on further inspection, it was fascinating. The heart was colored a deep blue, and infused with some sort of machinery and Dream’s proclaimed ‘not-magic.’

The still-living and beating aspect still freaked him out, though.

Tommy took it from the air, anticipating that Dream would have let it fall if he didn’t grab it soon. He could really feel it. He felt it beat like it was a second heart, and in horror, he nearly felt it align with his own. Or did his own align with the one in his hand? He didn’t want to think about it.

Luckily, Dream gave him reason not to. “I wonder how you’ll handle what comes next.” He smiled, but not in a friendly way. 

The words hung over him like a blade at the guillotine. Before Tommy could say anything incriminating, the Void was gone.

He startled awake, gasping for air like he just escaped from the depths of the ocean. He looked around him, finding himself back in his prison cell. He looked down at his left hand. The dream… Dream was real. The mark was there, smiley face and all.

He had no idea what to do with it, though. Was it like the ‘not-magic’ those assassins had? 

Tommy could feel the power that he felt from Dream. It was the same, yet the pull felt different. Not as strong as Dream’s raw energy, and not the same vibe he got from the assassins. 

It felt like Dream’s power flowed from his hand and into his very soul, mixing with him and creating something that could be shaped by his will.

The question was, how?

A rattling sound took Tommy out of his thoughts. He looked up to see a guard sliding down a plate of bread. 

“Got somethin’ for ya. Ye got some friends around, kid. Good luck.”

Before Tommy could ask what that meant, the guard left, leaving him in his cell with the sound of footsteps.

He reached out towards it cautiously, but it really did just appear to be a loaf of bread. He gently took it, finding himself nearly ravenous now that he inspected himself. He was bruised and shaken, and his stomach growled for sustenance.

Tommy tore through the bread, eating so fast that Wilbur would have tutted at him and Tubbo would have given him a long look. His stomach clenched at the thought, his appetite nearly vanishing.

But as he tore apart the next bit of bread, there was something very not-bread that stuck out of it. 

A letter and a key fell out as he ripped apart the last of it. The key looked old and rusty, and before he bothered to read the letter he took a moment to mourn the good bread wasted at the key’s touch.

Tommy then slowly pried open the letter. It read: 

“Tommy,

You’re not alone. 

This key unlocks your cell door. You’ll find explosives under the desk in the interrogation room. Use them on the east wall of the prison, as the wall there is falling apart. Your escape lies just beyond the sewers to a man who will ensure your safety. 

-Loyalists to L’manburg”

Tommy didn’t know who these people were (he’s sure Tubbo would have known) or how they knew anything about what had happened, but he wasn’t about to look the gift horse in the mouth. He quickly looked around the surrounding room outside of his cell. It was empty, and Tommy assumed the guard who had dropped off the message had cleared it.

As quietly as he could manage, he slinked an arm past the bars with the key in hand. He turned it around towards himself and felt around for the keyhole with his other hand.

With a few somewhat obnoxiously loud attempts, Tommy yanked the metal bars open.

Anticipating that someone was bound to check up in the area soon regardless of the noise he was making, he shoved the message in his pants and ran to the opposing wall. A few open doors were across this side, and he scooted slowly over until he was pressed against the wall to a new, low-lit room.

No voices or shuffling that Tommy could hear. Good. He swiftly poked his head in, and finding an empty lounging room for the guards, he slipped in unnoticed.

He thought back to the note’s instructions. Explosives in the interrogation room. He couldn’t remember shit from his trip here, but he’s sure the room couldn’t be far from the prison holding area. 

In preparation, he examined the room he was currently standing in. He found a few berries, which he munched down, a dulling knife and a few crossbow bolts. No crossbow, though.

He took them anyways, figuring he might have some use for them. Tommy allowed himself half a minute to search for a map of the prison, but couldn’t find one. Shaking his head to himself, he gathered his bearings and peered out into the prison area again. Still empty. Nice.

He dashed to the next door down, and this time the light that emitted from it shifted. There were definitely people there. As he focused in, he heard a few feet shuffling. Definitely more than one person there, then.

Tommy took a few silent, deep breaths to ready himself, imagining the layout of the room by what the light told him. 

Three, two, one, and-

He launched himself from the wall, wrapping himself around the edge of the door and into the room. One guard jumped in her seat at his appearance, and one other who had been standing away from the door noticed his partner’s movement and turned to face him, too.

Not the greatest entrance, but he’d take what he could get. 

Tommy internalized all that he’d learned as Royal Protector, and jumped into action before the guard’s surprise wore off.

He lunged towards the nearest standing guard, watching the man’s eyes widen as he plunged his knife into his side. It wouldn’t be fatal, Tommy knew, but it’d hurt enough that he wouldn’t be able to do much in retaliation.

The second, sitting guard was now standing up, sword unsheathed and held in front of her in warning.

“Get back,” the guard commanded, her voice stiff and unwavering. 

“More like, get rekt,” Tommy snorted. Okay, he could do better than that. Now really just wasn’t his shining moment for Awe-Inspiring Jokes and Puns.

He side-stepped quickly enough to make the guard shift her eyes and body towards his new location. Immediately after, he stepped up on the table that was in front of the chair she had been occupying, and twisted to jump off behind her.

Clearly not expecting him to do… whatever he just did, the guard attempted to turn around again, only to stumble against the chair as she stepped back to get some distance.

Wrong move. Tommy took the chance to deliver a non-fatal blow to her head. She fell like a rag doll to the floor, hitting her head on the chair seat as she went down.

“Whoops,” Tommy muttered. “Might’ve accidentally killed a woman… feeling good?”

He stepped over her body, picking up the guard’s gun and grabbing a longer sword that had clattered to the floor. Tommy wiped the blood off the knife onto the guard’s clothing, and shoved it the best he could into his pocket.

He glanced around the much larger room he was in, now that the immediate threats were gone. Still not the interrogation room, but the back wall had another door which led into a long hallway. Tommy could practically feel he was getting closer to the explosives.

That, or it was the whisper into his ear that did it: “Just around the corner.”

Tommy blurted out his favorite curse words as he stumbled around, looking for the source of the voice.

If he wasn’t mistaken, it sounded just like Wilbur.

Wilbur, who was dead.

He felt a heartbeat get louder in his ears- or was it his heart? He suddenly recalled Dream’s blue heart. Did he actually have it in real life, like his mark?

But he didn’t wake up with a heart in his hands, or with it anywhere near him. He remembered how it had seemed to beat in time with his own. Don’t tell him… it wasn’t _his_ heart now, was it?

Tossing those thoughts aside, his senses sharpened as he heard different voices and footsteps come down the long hallway. 

“...cigarettes,” one masculine voice said. “So he tells me to get more, but I’m on guard duty, y’know?” The voices drifted closer and closer to where Tommy was. And to be honest, he wasn’t really feeling up to fighting more people.

In a moment of panic, he eyed the two bodies on the floor. The man he stabbed was writhing and making low groans, clutching his open wound to stop the blood. Tommy wasn’t exactly sure why he hadn’t immediately cried for help. He hopes he didn’t fill his lungs with his own blood, or something awful like that.

Clearing his conscience from possibly killing two people just doing their jobs, he brought himself flush against the wall where more guards were approaching. He could practically feel the vibrations through the floor as they approached the room he was in.

“Not much you can do there, though,” a feminine voice replies. “He’s the warden, and all. Must be alright if you left, I don’t suppose?”

“And get caught by someone higher up? Don’t think so,” the previous voice says. “Think I’ll take my chances and tell the warden he could fuck himself with his cigarette butts, for all I care.”

“That’ll getcha in trouble,” the feminine voice warns.

“Ya think I don’t know?” The masculine voice is exasperated and very, very close.

Thinking fast, Tommy started shouting at the ceiling in the deepest voice he could muster, “Where’s my fuckin’ cigarettes, ay?”

He could tell that the moment the guards outside heard him, they stopped in their tracks.

Going on, he said, “I’ll take half yer pay if I don’t have ‘em in ten!”

To make his point, he kicked the table with a solid thud. He knew the guards heard it all, because he felt their weight shift back to where they came.

Tommy smiled to himself and patted himself on the back. Job well done, no?

Waiting until he thought they were gone, and hopefully had warned their fellow guards not to bother the warden in the room, he popped into the long hallway. Following his heart’s directions (not in the metaphorical sense), he went to the next room around the corner. And there it was: the interrogation room.

It seemed to be vacated at the moment, but the stench of dried blood and burning flesh still hung in the air like dust.

Rubbing his nose uncomfortably, he went around the room to find the aforementioned desk. After a few attempts at looking under them for explosives, he finally spotted them. A discreet box full of what surprised Tommy was whale oil. The glowing, light blue canisters of the oil were packed snugly in the box. 

A note was tucked into the side of one of them, and Tommy inspected it. “The explosion’s gonna be loud and big. Shoot it from a good distance. Better run fast.”

The handwriting was different from the bread letter’s, and while it had less of an artistic flair, the writing was very neat and had sharper, box-like angles.

He shoved it back into the box, and picked it up. While heavy, it wasn’t impossible to carry. Now Tommy just had to know where to go.

The east wall of the prison, the letter had said. Where the fuck was east? Clearly, whoever wrote it didn’t know he wasn’t very good at maths.

“Left,” Wilbur’s voice rang inside his head. “Down the hallway. Third right.”

“Goddamnit, Wilbur,” Tommy said, hardly used to the sensation of whatever the fuck was going on. 

Nevertheless, he went exactly where Wilbur’s voice directed him to. He didn’t run into anyone, and soon enough he was setting the box up against the slightly run-down wall and pointing his stolen gun at it.

“Here goes, then,” he said to himself, and braced for the explosion.

The gun fired with a loud bang, and it was followed by a bright light and even louder booming sounds and motion.

Tommy heard the guards shout behind him before he opened his eyes to the billowing smoke and rubble around him. The hole was hardly big, but just wide and tall enough for him to crawl through on the ground. He doubted the guards would bother to follow, or if they could fit at all. Really, the plan couldn’t have gone more perfectly, sans the two possibly dead guards.

Once he made it to the other side, coughing violently, he forced himself to start running. Running where, he didn’t fucking know, except that it was away from wherever he’d just come from. Eventually he realized he was above the sewer lines. A large metal grate rested just below the ceiling, which he used to crawl across. 

Swarms of rats filled the corridor below him. He was grateful he didn’t have to deal with them. They chirped up at him angrily, but he ignored them.

Tommy didn’t know how long it had been since his escape, but he was certain the alarm had been rung and that people were after him now. Many would be on high alert for the suspect of assassinating the Emperor and kidnapping Tubbo.

He didn’t quite understand why they thought it was him. Why would he have killed his own brother and stolen away his best friend? And how could he have done it all on his own? 

The metal grating tapered off as the sewers came to a large opening. Light from outside shed through, and Tommy breathed a sigh of relief-

But he immediately froze upon seeing a man approach him from the opening. It seemed that his escape was going to be a lot more difficult.

The man looked around warily, almost like he thought he wasn’t supposed to be there. Interesting.

“Royal Protector?” The man half-whispered, half-shouted.

Okay, so maybe this was good news? Taking a shot, Tommy called back, “Yeah?”

The man’s eyes flew to where he was crouched, and smiled a broad, welcoming smile. “You’re here, great. I was a bit worried you died already.”

“Harsh,” Tommy replied. He jumped down to where the other man was, and soon they stood facing each other. 

The other man held out his hand and said, “I’m Fundy. I’m with the Loyalists.” On closer inspection, Tommy could see that the strands of his hair peeking out from under a black hat was orange, like a fox. 

Tommy took his hand, and matched the brightness of the other with a toothy grin. “You can call me Tommy.”

The man nodded. “Come with me, the boat’s just outside.”

They both jogged a bit alongside each other until they came up to a small steamboat that perfectly fit the two of them.

As the Loyalist pushed them out to sea, Tommy started, “So what was your name again? Sorry, was it Fun Dee?”

The man snorted and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s Fundy. One word.”

“Right, cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol see what i did there? it’sfundy, amirite? lmao kill me, i wrote this in a fuckin day.


End file.
